Digital Only Subscription
Read the digital e-Edition of The Standard-Speaker on your PC or mobile device, and have 24/7 access to breaking news, local sports, contests, and more at standardspeaker.com or on our mobile apps.

Digital Services
Have news alerts sent to your mobile device or email, read the e-Edition, sign up for daily newsletters, activate your all access, enter contests, take quizzes, download our mobile apps and see the latest e-circulars.

Article Tools

The people in the Hazleton area have plenty of reasons to reflect on the sacrifices made by the brave men and women of the armed forces over our 237-year history.

Between now and June, Americans will observe Memorial Day honoring all who've died in military service for the United States. June 6 sees the 69th anniversary of D-Day, history's supreme invasion by air, sea and land, recalled gratefully by Europeans trapped under the Nazi hob-nail boot as the beginning of the end of Hitler's brutal regime.

Anyone who's ever loitered near a war monument such as the Civil War Memorial on Diamond Avenue, a battlefield site such as the 1780 Sugarloaf Massacre, or the War Memorial near the old Miner's Bank in West Hazleton will get what I'm about to say: Perhaps sacrificial death isn't so final.

Once, when our kids were young, we took them to pay our respects to the fallen warriors at the Normandy D-Day landing beaches. We left the shining White Cliffs of Dover behind by car ferry enroute to Calais, France, and were soon speeding to our destination. As we caught our first glimpse of the miles-long boomerang of silvery beach reaching to the blue vanishing point where so many battles took pace, the backseat buzzed with anticipation. To my wife and me, the visit was an act of thanksgiving; to the kids, of course, it was just a day at the beach.

After we parked, they tore off in the direction of the sparkling surf, passing concrete gun emplacements, holed-out tanks, and rusting barricades left as a terrible reminder of the combat.

A lot of young men died on that coast. According to Portsmouth Museums and Records, the dead on June 6, 1944, included 2,499 Americans and 1,915 Allies, a total of 4,414 soldiers, sailors and marines.

Oblivious to the welcoming sun, sand and waves, the kids sauntered back to us one after the other. I peered into their upturned faces and knew somehow they knew: We were on hallowed ground.

Over the years, I've returned there. The first impression is a lasting one, made all the more poignant by the many "mom-and-pop" D-Day museums set up in back gardens, inside homes, and in an old garage, where the owners have laid out some of the most haunting displays of WWII memorabilia I've ever seen.

Salt-water-stiffened wallets, torn prayer books, rotting combat boots, perforated helmets, curled photos, and yellowed letters from families, wives and fiancées. All found on the beaches and fields and villages where boys were mowed down like grass by the intense Nazi firepower during D-Day in and around Ouistreham, Merville-Franceville, Pointe du Hoc, Sainte-Mère-Église. Here the locals turn over memories like spare change in their pockets.

Many's the time I stood here in England at the foot of the tall flagpole platform near the main entrance of Cambridge American Military Cemetery, gazing across the vast plaza with its multiple reflecting pools pulling the sky to eye-level, stretching eastward where so many sacrificed their lives for their country.

At the other end of the precinct, a Greek-style memorial chapel rises up, featuring a massive bronze portal engraved with the words "Into thy hands O Lord." Inside are military battle maps, rich stained-glass windows bearing state seals and military decorations, and a sky-blue and gold mosaic ceiling memorial honoring the dead air-force pilots and their crews. The deep silence in this place makes me think of eternity.

On the lawns, there are countless white marble crosses, and many Stars of David, recalling the short, tumultuous lives of the thousands of boys who gave their lives for us.

Take a good look at any group of 18- to 25-year-olds in town today. They're roughly the same age of the American dead lying in rows like seeds beneath gently rolling green hills over here in England - 3,812 U.S. men dead; 5,127 names recorded on the Tablets of the Missing; 18 women. Young people from places very like Freeland, Tomhicken, McAdoo, Tamaqua, Hazleton, and Drums.

When I stand meditating on their lives, the air thrums with their presence. Thinking of their sacrifice is always a stirring experience. As Jesus said, "Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends." Perhaps like seeds we must die before we may truly live.

Since the average Hazletonian probably won't get to make the journey to Europe this year to visit the resting places of the few who sacrificed their lives for the many, perhaps you'll take time today to honor the names of the military dead on cenotaphs in and around town, expressing thanks for their great sacrifice. I know I will over here.

In column two, I'll pay tribute to West Hazleton's hometown hero, 1st Lt. Thomas Ksanznak, who flew a P-51 Mustang during WWII. Regrettably, he was killed in action shortly before the war ended in 1945 and is buried at the Cambridge Military Cemetery.

I'll also tell how, while recently visiting the French town of Flavigny Sur Ozerain, I discovered an American Doughboy's 1918 autograph scrawled in pencil on the wall in the choir loft of the parish church of St. Genest. Noting the name and date in my journal, I then tracked him down to his home in Orange City, Iowa, discovering his grave and the whereabouts of his family.

Meanwhile, it's uncanny how these war memorials have their own spiritual ethos; an aroma of immortality permeates the air like sacred incense. As I say, unsuspecting people approaching from leafy roadsides talk loudly and laugh until they suddenly get it.

Then, reflexively, their talk is in hushed tones. Kids tiptoe. And old men weep.

Former Hazleton resident Michael Apichella is a writer living in Europe. visit his website on: mapichella .tumblr.com. You may contact him at apichellaspeaker @yahoo.com.

We welcome user discussion on our site, under the following guidelines:

To comment you must first create a profile and sign-in with a verified DISQUS account or social network ID. Sign up here.

Comments in violation of the rules will be denied, and repeat violators will be banned. Please help police the community by flagging offensive comments for our moderators to review. By posting a comment, you agree to our full terms and conditions. Click here to read terms and conditions.